


Last Chance Angel

by savvybo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, Multi, Saving Grace AU, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 13:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10412862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvybo/pseuds/savvybo
Summary: Roughly Based off of the show Saving Grace:Detective Dean Winchester is on a one way trip to hell and got a first class ticket to the fast lane. Castiel is the angel sent to try and change his fate, one way or another.





	

Dean slowly opened his eyes as the morning did its very best to push through the unfamiliar curtains. The sun was already heating up the earth and he could feel it through the strange girl's blasting air conditioner. He slowly sat up running his hand through his hair and looking over. The steady and slow rise and fall of her shoulder showed she still slept and he slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed. The previous night had been rather exciting to put it nicely, and it took him a little while to locate his boxers and jeans. After a visit to the bathroom he made it a priority to find his shirt and jacket, which were even harder to find then the already worn set of clothes. Shirt; seems to have had found its way to the couch almost hanging off the arm. His jacket....where is that? Oh there it is, the hall. He sighed and picked it up, feeling its pockets. Wallet, badge, gun. Check check check. Pulling it on over his shoulders he walked to the kitchen and tore off a sticky note from the girl's fridge, wrote a little note, and stuck it back on. He'd done this many times before as it was, so slipping out quietly was an easy task. One that was many times over rehearsed. 

He backed his '67 Chevy Impala out of the driveway, already rather late. For an observant person he missed the man in a beige trench coat standing on the curb. Black ruffled hair that stuck out in most places, hands hanging at his sides the sleives a bit too long. Blue eyes squinting at his car as he drove off down the waking neighborhood street. 

The sun hurt his eyes, it had been a long night. Dean slowly pushed the doors to the precinct open and rubbed his eyes with a groan. 

"Alright....alright I got a text about a....homicide...or somethin'..." Dean groaned out. He took a sort of falling seat down at his desk propping his feet up in front of the computer and letting his head fall back over the edge of the computer chair. The smell of coffee was like heaven to his nose as he slowly opened his eyes and looked down the direction of his feet and desk. 

" 'bout time you got here" Dean's head flopped back again against over the end of the back of his chair to look at the older man standing behind him. 

"Yo~" 

The chief, Robert Singer, or as everyone normally called him Bobby, sighed and rubbed his eyes, "At least you're almost on time...Why do I have the feeling you got less then four hours of sleep last night'

"An' your feeling is RIGHT!" Dean's mouth curled up in a lopsided grin as he snapped at Bobby making a fake hand-gun pointing at him. 

"Ugh....idjit. Sam is looking for you..." Bobby said holding out a file. 

"Abouuuuuut?" Dean's head tilted to the side.

"Some joggers found a nice little mess over in the park down-town" 

"Again? Joggers aaaalways find that sorta thing, I swear it's like the curse of the joggers!" 

"Yeah, Sam wants to see you." 

"Now?" 

"He said soon as you got here, so yeah, now." 

Dean groaned and leaned foreword in the office chair, rolling his neck releasing multiple popping sounds from the vertibre as Bobby walked back to his personal office. Dean noticed Jo in her desk across from him with a sly grin spread across her face. 

"What."

"Brunette."

"Brune--what why are you, why are you asking me this" 

She laughed and rolled her eyes, "Because it's kinda a fun little morning game to guess what type you got depending on what sorta booze you got in your system."

"How do you know what I drink."

"We all go to the same bar, I got what you drink down to the day and month." She shrugged with a smirk. 

"Yeah we...yeah." Dean huffed and stood up, 

"Your welcome~" 

He just grumbled a 'thanks for the coffee you lil shit' and took his coffee from the tray as she started to laugh. 

\---

Dean gave a cheerful grin on the glass window to the lab where Sam worked. "Sam. Sam. Hey Sam. Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmm" 

The taller man looked up from the table he sat at and smiled. He wore a tan plaid under his the white lab-coat that hung on his wide frame. Dean waved at him from behind the glass and held up a baggie of doughnuts he had snagged from one of the desks belonging to someone on vice. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes as the detective let himself in the lab. 

"I got doughnuts~" 

"No you stole doughnuts..."

"I got them. They weren't eating them anyway left them all unguarded and shit." Dean opened the bag looking in and continued, "They normally get pie too...." Dean looked up and made a pouting face. Sam groaned and snatched the bag from him. 

"Well you're the thief you can't be too choosy Dean." 

Dean just waved him off and took one of the basic frosted ones out, and took a nice big bite stuffing his mouth full. 

"So..." He waved the doughnut at Sam and continued, "whatcha got?" 

Sam rolled his eyes and got up, walking over to a light board that hung on the wall and turned it on showing x-rays of someone. Anyone could clearly see the two clear cut bullets in the ribcage. 

"Who's that?" Dean tilted his head. 

"Don't know, those joggers I'm sure you already heard of found him this morning. Naked."

Dean shuddered. "Imagine going like that Sammy...Shot and stripped for the whole world to see..." 

"I'd honestly rather not imagine myself being murdered but I guess if that helps you get a better idea out of this...Anyway. We pulled out two slugs from our John Doe here. So far the inital report shows no defensive wounds were found, but this shot here? There is gun residue burnt on the skin through the clothes we have to assume he wore." 

"Chest or back?"

"This one? Back." 

"Maybe he didn't see his attacker until after the first shot?"

"Or maybe he knew the shooter, we'll know more once we get the autopsy results back. You know for blood alcohol levels and the sorts."

They both looked up as Dean's phone went off signaling a text. He pulled out his phone and stood up shoving the rest of the doughnut in his mouth puffing out his cheeks. "Well that's for me...gotta go, catch ya later Sammy!" Dean grinned as he turned to go, giving a little wave over his shoulder like an almost sarcastic half salute. 

Dean responded to the text, giving him a good 30 min before he'd even have to leave the precinct. He and the others here had a little place they liked to go to think about things, like cases and life and children and whatnot. The door to the stairwell closed behind him as he pulled a pack of cigarettes and an old lighter he got from his father. With a few flicks the flame started up, but just as he brought the flame close to the end of the paper wrapped tobacco it flicked out. Dean sighed and flicked it again, and the same thing happened. 

"This damn thing broken...? Maybe I need to refill it..." He groaned as he let the cigarette hang from his lips. Thats when he heard the ruffling of clothes behind him. His reaction was instant and he spun around, dropping the lighter and pulling out the gun he kept against his back held in the back of his jeans. He instantly had his gun pointed to the top of the flight of stairs he was just sitting on, at a man in a tan trench coat and suit. Dark hair and blue eyes staring down at him, the man looked unarmed but better safe then sorry. 

"Hello Dean."


End file.
